


Take Care

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Series: Prompted Fics [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 06:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18733246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: Prompt: "You're burning up" Orion & SiriusOrion is home alone when his elder son falls ill.





	Take Care

**Author's Note:**

> Sirius is just 16, it's the Christmas before he runs away

Orion Black, for once, had his home to himself. His wife had taken the elf and gone to visit his sister in the country before the holiday season started up in full swing. His sons, while home from school for the Christmas holidays, were at his parents for dinner, a dinner he had managed to escape with tales of a trip to Scotland. 

He _had_ been to Scotland, but his trip had unexpectedly ended early. He had a few hours of quiet to himself before the boys returned. Not, he supposed, that Regulus would have disturbed his peace much, but Sirius Orion had been a terror in just the two days he’d been home for Christmas. Orion’s head ached just thinking of his elder son–the snide comments, the stomping around the house at all hours of the night, the shouting, always the shouting. He took after his mother that way, and he wondered what the two of them would do had they not had each other to argue with.

And so it came to pass that Orion was truly alone in his own home. Or so he thought. 

As he made his way to his study, he heard the sound of rushed footsteps above him. Frowning–it would be just like Sirius to manage to skive off seeing his grandfather the moment his parents’ backs were turned–he changed course and headed up the stairs. 

The door to his lavatory had not fully shut behind him, and Orion could hear his son being sick on the other side. Lip curling in disgust at the sound, he pushed the door the rest of the way open. 

Sirius was slumped over the toilet and didn’t even look around at the door bursting open and his father’s footsteps.

“Sirius Orion!” he snapped, to get the boy’s attention. Sirius lifted his head to blink blearily at him, but didn’t say anything.

“If you’ve gotten into my wine again,” Orion said sharply, “you’ll have more than this to reckon with.” 

Sirius mumbled something that sounded vaguely rude, but it seemed to sap him of his strength, and he lowered his head to rest on his arms across the toilet.

Orion frowned. It was decidedly unlike Sirius to have no answer at all, and, while his eyes had been unfocused and glassy, they didn’t carry the wildness that came from reckless intoxication. He crossed the room in two strides, and bent at the waist to press a hand to Sirius’ forehead.

Sirius batted at the hand half-heartedly, but Orion murmured, “You’re burning up.” He added, words coming out as a demand, “How long have you been ill?”

It took some effort, but Sirius managed, “Took a nap. Reggie tried to wake me, but he said I had a fever. Woke up and–,” he gestured vaguely towards the toilet, before flopping his head back down.

Orion sighed. With his wife and the elf gone, this was his to deal with, and it was entirely out of his element. “Would you like to retire?” he asked. “Or ought you, ah,” his lip curled, “stay here?” 

Sirius made another vague noise that was no sort of answer. Orion rested a hand on his own face, gathered his strength, then said, curtly, “Come along.”

He waved a wand to take care of the sick, then bent and helped Sirius to his feet. Heat radiated through his thin T-shirt. Orion frowned, not, for once, at the unsightly Muggle clothes, but at the fever consuming his son. 

The boy was unsteady on his feet, and Orion had to wrap an arm around him to keep him from falling back to his knees. “Here,” Orion murmured. “Wash your mouth out.” 

He helped his son to the sink and waved his wand for the faucet to turn on. He supported Sirius as, slowly, the boy cupped his hands to the water and swished it around in his mouth before spitting it out again. Orion turned off the water, and studied the boy. He was pale, shaking and sweaty, but did not look in immediate danger of vomiting again, so he said, “Off to bed with you, young sir,” and it came out almost affectionate.

Sirius was sick enough that he rested his head against his father’s shoulder. “Can you walk,” Orion asked amused, “or would you like me to carry you?”

Even sicker than Orion had seen him since a small child and head pressed against his papa’s shoulder, Sirius made a noise of such protest that Orion did not stoop to lift the boy. Thoughts of what his own father might say at such a sight had him shaking his head regardless. 

A softhearted fool Orion was. He wasn’t sure what his father would have done in such a situation, but still, Orion could not see how it could be beyond his duties not to return the child to bed, where he might properly rest. Despite it all, despite foolish teenaged rebellion, Sirius Orion was still the Black Heir, and he did not, if Orion could help it, spend his nights on lavatory floors. 

Taking most of his weight, he half-carried, half-led his son out of the bathroom and into his own rooms. He was too cooperative, moving with Orion without complaint, almost taking comfort in his father’s presence. Decidedly unwell, Orion thought.

As it always did when Orion entered his elder child’s bedroom, his lip curled at the Gryffindor colors and the bold, distasteful Muggle magazines decorating its walls. He’d done it on purpose, to get a rise out of them, and it worked.

“You should redecorate,” he commented, absently, unable to help himself. Sirius grumbled what sounded like a no into his shoulder, but was feverish enough not to turn that into a fight this evening. 

Orion deposited the boy gracefully into bed, where he drew his knees to his chest and curled around a pillow. Almost tenderly, Orion pulled the covers up over him, tucking them securely around him, the way Walburgua would have. It wasn’t fussy, only proper.

Still, the boy shivered. Frowning, Orion turned, wand lifted to summon another blanket to the room, but there was someone in the doorway. He started, before recognizing his younger son, returned home, quiet as a mouse, from his grandparents. 

“Don’t sneak, Regulus,” he scolded, and the boy ducked his head. 

“I was trying not to wake him,” he said softly. 

“Too late,” Sirius mumbled from the bed. He cracked an eye open, scowling at them both, then complained, “Cold.”

“I brought a blanket,” Regulus said, sheepishly, and hastened, almost shyly under his father’s gaze, into the room, to cover his brother with it. 

Sirius instantly wrapped it around himself, but still his body shook and sweat shone against his forehead. Orion’s brow furrowed as he looked down at his sixteen-year-old, unsure what to do next. 

“He probably should have some water,” Regulus offered, his cheeks pinking when Orion turned to look at him. “And maybe a cold rag on his forehead?” 

Orion nodded his approval, and Regulus quickly added, “I can go fetch them,” and bustled away before Orion could consent. 

He turned back to his elder son, alone again, and rested his hand on the boy’s hair, indulgent for a moment longer. 

Soon, Regulus would be back, and tomorrow Walburga and the Elf would return to fuss as women and servant folk ought. For now, Sirius did not appear in danger of being sick again, and even as he shivered and sweated from fever, drifted back asleep, Orion still with him.


End file.
